


Knocked Sideways

by Anonymous



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Peter Parker, Heavy Angst, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony, Hurt Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sad, Sad Ending, Sad Peter Parker, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "I wasn't always one for sentiment, but I didn't care anymore. I knew deep down that no matter how many times I said it would be okay, it wasn't. I knew that this was the last time—no holding back. No regrets. I needed to say what I needed to say."
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Anonymous Collection





	Knocked Sideways

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 1am. It was based off a daydream I had earlier this week. Many tears were shed while writing this. I hope you enjoy this little blurb.

I hadn't cried. Hadn't cried since it happened. Not once. But suddenly, I was bawling on the couch. I couldn't even remember why I was in the living room, but that wasn't what was on my mind at the current moment. My heart pounded, still in a cold sweat from that awful dream. The rubatosis was unsettling.

It had been one week. For one week, I hadn't cried. Not since-

Something caught in my throat as I tried to stifle a shuddered sob. What a mess I'd become. And to think I thought of myself as one already. Boy, was I wrong?

I had to be strong when everyone around me couldn't be. I had to lift up the others when they were hardly holding on. I didn't even care to think that maybe, just maybe, I deserved to feel things too; that I deserved to grieve.

Dangit! How had I managed not to cry for so long? How did I not cry over the fact that I lost my baby?

Oh gosh, it was killing me. It was killing me! The memories were tormenting. And that dream-

Dream? What was I saying? That was not a dream, far from it. That was a nightmare! I could still see everything so vividly. I couldn't move. I was utterly helpless, rewatching it over and over.

I had told him to be careful. I had told him a thousand times. I should've known he wouldn't listen—that stubborn kid.

Except he wasn't a kid, not anymore. He was an adult but had hardly lived his life. He had a wife and a kid of his own. He left them behind. He left me behind.

It wasn't his fault, though. He was only doing what he did best: being a hero. But even Spider-Man was no match for an infinity stone.

Over and over, the memory replayed in my head. He was in shock and could barely move. He struggled to breathe, struggled to speak, but I hushed him. I ran to him, tapping off my suit. I fell to my knees and brought him into my chest, cradling him and rocking him back and forth, as if he were a child again. As if he was that barely fifteen-year-old that I had recruited 18 years ago.

I whispered in his ear and held him close, tears daring to fall. I kept saying it was going to be okay, over and over, but it wasn't. It was far from it, and we both knew it.

I looked up at the perpetrator, her cold eyes meeting mine. 

I tried to speak, tried to say something to her, but I couldn't. I was at a loss of words. I felt betrayed—a knife in my back. Oh, but this was so much worse than a knife in my back.

"People change, Stark," was the last thing I heard her say before I slipped into a complete state of panic. As I gripped him closer to my chest, I felt his heartbeat dissipate. It was slowing down rapidly.

I pulled him away from my chest for a moment to get a good look at his face. I studied it because I finally realized that this was going to be the last time I saw it.

He looked dazed, in shock somewhat still. He had those awful purple marks left on his cheeks, fading but still evident where the stone had touched him.

I cupped his face with one hand, the other still holding him. Tears were falling from his eyes, and I wiped them away.

Tears were falling from my eyes now too.

Peter looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He was in such an unresponsive state already. There was no coming back from it. Not even his healing factor could undo this.

But I knew him too well and wasn't surprised when he pushed himself to say something. I could see the struggle imprinted on his face, trying to move his lips, to raise his voice, but no sound came out, just a whimper.

"Shhhh. Shhhh, Pete, hey," I cooed, but his eyes danced around, and his head drooped. "Hey, look at me," I said, forcing him to look at me with my hand.

His big brown eyes, once so full of life, were becoming dull, far too quickly. The sight was gut-wrenching. I wished I would never have to see this day, but here I was.

"Kid," I said, barely managing to keep my voice from breaking. I swallowed a lump in my throat. He was far from a kid anymore, but he would always be a kid in my eyes, my kid.

Peter's dull, teary brown eyes met mine, one last time.

"Pete, we're gonna be okay. Alright? I'll take care of your family, I promise. I promise you," I told him, tears falling freely.

Peter tried once more to speak, but he couldn't. He let out a whimper, clearly distressed, not only by the pain coursing through his veins but also by the fact that he couldn't speak in his final moments.

I wasn't always one for sentiment, but I didn't care anymore. I knew deep down that no matter how many times I said it would be okay, it wasn't. I knew that this was the last time—no holding back. No regrets. I needed to say what I needed to say.

"I know I'm not one for sentiment, but Peter, I love you. I love you, Pete, you're my kid!" My voice broke, but I continued. "And I know you're not a kid anymore, but I'll always see you that way. And I can't imagine a world without you, but-" I held back a sob. "But I'm gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay, alright? I'm gonna take care of your wife and your kid. I'm gonna take care of May. And I'm gonna take care of myself, so don't you worry about us. We'll be fine."

More tears fell from Peter's almost lifeless eyes, and he looked like he so badly wanted to say something. 

"And you don't need to apologize, Peter. You're a hero. And you'll always be my favorite hero. I'll miss you, kiddo, but I'll be okay. Everything's gonna be fine, okay, Underoos?" I said through tears.

"I-" Peter croaked, barely in a whisper.

I held him close to my chest again, feeling his barely beating heartbeat against my chest. I wanted to hold him one last time, but I couldn't bare look into his eyes and watch the life leave them. So I held him close and whispered in his ear.

"Shhh. It's okay, Pete. It's okay. You did good. You did so good."

"I love you too."

And the body, the body in my arms went limp. There was no heartbeat, no warmth. He was gone. He was gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

And I broke down. And I sobbed.

And that was the last time I had cried.

I hadn't cried again until tonight, well, technically it was morning. Three fifteen to be exact.

It was the morning of the funeral, and suddenly, it all became so much more real. As if holding his lifeless body wasn't real enough. 

It's just- the funeral made it so much more tangible. I had to accept it and accept that I would never go on another patrol with Spider-Man. We would never stay up late in the lab, working on projects together. We would never walk the boardwalk on a summer afternoon again, going to that run-down ice cream shop. We would never order takeout, and I would never get to hear him ramble on about different stories of his. We would never sit on the couch together, watching a movie and dozing off, leaving a mess with the popcorn. I would never see his bright brown eyes and his beautiful smile ever again.

Peter was never coming back. That nightmare, it was real. It happened. The memories just decided to torment me in my sleep as well.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I just cried. I sobbed into my hands, and my shoulders shook. I lost him. I lost my boy.

Suddenly, I felt someone sit down on the couch next to me. A hand went down on my shoulder.

"Pops?" A familiar, young voice said.

I wiped my face on my sleeve and turned to meet the concerned eyes of an eleven-year-old girl. She looked intently at me.

"What's wrong?"

I felt so vulnerable, but there was no use in trying to cover it up. She already knew I was crying.

"I just miss him."

"Me too."

I looked back at the child sitting on the couch next to me. She had so much of her father in her.

"Come here, kid," I said, pulling her into a hug.

"This isn't a hug, I'm just getting the door for you. We're not there yet."

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a little AU idea I had. I hope you like it. I wrote it really late but I proof read it in the morning. I hope I didn't miss any grammar mistakes.


End file.
